Sowerbutt's Revenge

“I want small groups of lads to go in and flush out some of the Reds. Smash up their pubs, do over the couple of shops run by Reds, grab any of the members or supporters and give them a hiding. You know the routine. Take shooters, but only use them if necessary. Fists and coshes should be enough," Sowerbutt said.
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Sowerbutt's Mail

“He won’t be there, Mr Sorbay, and that’s a fact. He’s a coward but there’ll be plenty of Reds, station hands,  and even Tube drivers. They’ll snatch you and that will be it,” Spaghetti said, a worried look on his face.

He had just read the hand-written note that arrived in the second post.
“Be at the clock on Platform 3 at Whitechapel Tube at 3 o’clock this afternoon. Come alone and unarmed. Your woman will be released.”
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Sowerbutt's Precautions

The old soldier fell silent, seeing the worried look on Sowerbutt’s face. “I need your help, Pop. The ring of match-sellers around the place is working well, a good flow of information about what’s going on. But some of the Stepney Reds have snuck into East India Dock Road and have been watching the business. I need your lads doing a regular stint close in to keep an eye on the place, dawn until late; a few coppers in their pockets for the street boys to run messages. Anybody of interest spotted and we’ll deal with it. I’ll look after your lads, of course.”

Pop nodded: “Of course, Mr Sorbay. They’ll be there first thing tomorrow. The lads love working for you.”
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Sowerbutt's Gift

Sowerbutt handed her a small packet. “Something for your wedding, Annie. Nylons, they call them. Only went on sale Stateside a few months ago. I’ve got one for Polly and one for your wedding.”

Turning to Pop, he said: “We’ll make a killing. Got them off a Yank sailor on one of the neutral boats. We’re going to establish a regular supply - well, as regular as you can these days. Sell them in the West End at four times the New York price.”
Annie was speechless, staring at the nylons, then she burst into tears and threw her arms around Sowerbutt and kissed his stubbly cheek. “Oh, Mr Sorbay, you are so kind to Pop and me. I shall be the happiest girl in the Smoke wearing these on my wedding day. I’ve read about them in the magazines."

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Sowerbutt's Puzzle

Rosetta pressed home her advantage. “You are growing slack, senor. I walk in and you didn’t see. We are in a back pool, back water, but you should not relax. Is that not so?”

Sowerbutt poured a couple of glasses of Old Bushmills. “You are working with dear John, no doubt. But indulge an old friend, how did you find us? John would not have said. Left hand, right hand, he’s never even introduced his hands to each other.”
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Sowerbutt's Vision

“Rosetta?” Sowerbutt cried in a strangled voice. “What are you doing here?”

“You recognise me despite the make-up, senor. I shed my clothes, but taking off the make-up is too much trouble.”
Sowerbutt grinned: “I’m pleased you shed your clothes, Rosetta, otherwise I wouldn’t have recognised you.”
“Tsk, tsk, senor. You talk about taking off my clothes, I recall you had a lady?”
Sowerbutt kept a straight face, he suddenly had a vision of Polly hurling phone books and shoes at him.
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Sowerbutt's Surprise

For once, Sowerbutt was speechless. A dowdy, middle-aged woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses was standing by the table inside the farmhouse. Before his hand could stretch inside his leather jacket for the Webley, his jaw dropped further. The woman pulled off her shapeless beret, threw it on the table and shook out her long raven-coloured hair. It couldn’t be, this woman was too old. She watched him as she threw off her padded raincoat, revealing a shapely figure. It was Rosetta.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Colour-Camouflage-Hitlers-Super-Spy-ebook/dp/B00HT48BN8